Take It Out On Me
by Placido
Summary: A lonely isolated Winry evolves painfully into a cold and bitter woman. A guilt-wracked Roy comes to terms with his past and turns to face an uncertain future, yet harbours a long lost picture only to return it to it rightful owner...


**Yay, got this one done in about a week - _amazing!_ D: Hopefully it doesn't suck because of that...**

**Also, so in case you haven't seen my profile and you want to keep up to date with me and how I'm updating, I am currently busy with college work but I AM still continuing and updating my stuff. Just not as fast as I like. **

**I just found out that I can delete chapters without losing people's kind feedback. *facepalm* Why no one ever told me this, I do not know, but I am happy to say those dumb excerpts are finally gone.**

**Thank you as always for your inspiring reviews in advance - I really, really appreciate it! =) Oh, and Happy Easter and or St. Patricks Day!**

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Roy Mustang pushes through the double doors of the coffeehouse, attempting to avoid unnecessary eye contact. He shuffles towards the back of the line, checking his watch every so often. It's not like he has to be anywhere except work.

The woman ahead of him had droped her purse. Normally, he would have rushed to her side and picked it up for her, but he just isn't feeling anything today. The cashier hands the lady a small coffee and a neatly, stapled brown bag full of doughnuts. Turning on her heal in a rush to leave in doing so she bumped right into him.

Roy watches the woman leave, forgetting about his place in line. Something about her reminds him of someone else. He can't quite place it.

"Sorry!" a familiarly bitter voice says as he almost trips and he looks everywhere but up to see the voice's face.

Roy, taken aback, clutches his shirt. He notices a tiny stain decorating his uniform. He nods in return but she was already gone sprinting out the door in a hurry, "Damn it," he cursed under his breath. Here it was early in the morning and he already had a stain on his uniform. He knew he would have to go back home and get a fresh pair. He wouldn't be caught dead at work like he had just wet his pants. If he didn't go back home now and change the others would tease him relentlessly at work. Today just wasn't his day.

When it was finally his turn Roy pulled out his wallet from his coat pocket. When he opened his wallet to get some cash or a credit card, a small picture slipped out and fell lightly onto the floor and there she was, smiling. Normally, he would have rushed to pick it up and put it back in his wallet, but he just isn't feeling anything today. Roy stares at the picture, forgetting about his place in line. Something about the picture kept a strong hold on him.

"Sir, can I take your order?"

_Order_

It had been on a order. Roy had done many things on a order…

But not anything that serious.

He was said to be a hero. A title he wished could be avoided. A poor bastard, carted off stuck in his own personal hell. There was some talk of a medal, but Roy was never one for jewellery and, besides, when would he get to wear it? To the eyes of others he may be a hero but he felt like a sick murderer. He couldn't stop the thought from looping through his mind again and again as he slowly picked up the picture of Winry Rockbell as a child held in the arms of two doctors he killed in Ishval.

The picture was worn, crinkled, and fragile. One of the corners is torn, and there's a small stain at the top. He silently knows that if he isn't careful the picture will probably rip. The photo is in color, and it doesn't appear old so much as abused. There's a tear nearly all the way through the middle—it's been mended with tape. He gently ran his thumb across the photograph that had grazed over Winry's smiling face on the surface, in this picture, was a reminder of his sins. He gazed at it, eyes glazed with sadness. He thought that he might give it to Winry next time he saw her in Central…

…but instead, a girl who was barely more than a stranger.

He wanted to save it for that day, not to give it to her now, but being that Winry needed a photo of her parents, he felt it just wouldn't be proper if he was carrying it around in his wallet. He had to give it to her at some point. It wasn't his to hold.

Roy rembers how he killed. He pulled the trigger. The bullet hit it's target. The doctors lay lifeless on the floor, a broken picture of one of their many gifts to the world between them. The little girl was beautiful. Now she would cry for the rest of her life. It was a bitter recognition of his inabilities, of all the poor choices he'd ever made. The regret stuck under the gunpowder residue on his shaking hands, from his sweat. Sticky like the blood pooling on the floor. He had to live with it. The guilt. Frankly he just wanted to get the hell out of there because by that time the place stank of blood, sweat, and tears he had the mother of all guit from shooting them... He had dropped the pistol, barely able to breathe. He didn't _give_ commands; he just did what he was told! It was the army, something he was to accept. He wasn't to blame. He did what was asked. It was his leader's fault, the fault of whoever thought it was appropriate in the first place.

They gave him a job. He only finished it.

But he knew this was only an excuse. _No point in mourning the dead _He blocked his mind off of it, having no guts to fully relive it again. His heart pounded, aching. This seemed to be the right thing to do. The lesser of two evils. Why did it have to hurt so much? Truthfully, he knew killing those doctors was wrong they were just helping people, but he was placed with an order he couldn't refuse and that order had created a heavy burden on their daughter's heart. It would be wrong to keep it. Besides that, she might be unwilling altogether to see him again.

Doing it himself would be best. He kept praying that Winry would forgive him. He would tell her later, but for now, he hadn't the nerve.

"Sir," the cashier calls, alarming the Flame Alchemist. When he just stares straight back, she raises her voice. "Sir!"

Roy snaps out of his daze, uttering a soft "Sorry" under his breath. Her voice is hinted with irritation as she asks him for his order. He softly and calmly requests a small coffee before handing in the usual $3.89 worth of cash without being asked. He smiles at the linoleum tiles, quietly thanking the cashier, and turns on his heel.

Roy's fingers curl around the steaming mug, and he slowly, absentmindedly, brings the cup to his lips, never looking down, barely feeling the hot liquid trickle passed his lips, down his throat. Roy feels a growing guilty sensation within him, he closed his eyes and recalled the day he executed the doctors. The doctors were only helping people doing what they thought was right. The Flame Alchemist's throat felt dry with guilt as the image of the corpses lying in the pit flashed in his mind.

He opened his eyes. Roy looked in the direction he was going and had walked on.

The man knew he was doing the right thing to try and forgive and forget. Roy had taken lives in the war, both young and old. Some of his comrades were dead, Roy did not wish to go on fighting. After the frightening events in Ishval, he wanted to find relief.

His thoughts lingered as he walked through the streets. He saved the lives of many after taking lives of others. That had to count for something. For Roy, the war was over. No matter how many failed attempts of committing suicide It was time for him to find peace with himself.

Turning down another street Roy had the feeling that he was being watched as he shuffled down the street. Every once and while he'd turn around with a confused expression on his face, but decided to be cautious.

"Hm?" He turned around, but saw nothing.

Footsteps, Roy heard the thuding sound of footsteps. He knew something was amiss.

He didn't bother to look up when she tiptoed towards him, trying to eliminate the echoing click of her heels as best she could, but came to realize that it wouldn't have mattered if she'd stomped them into the pile of shattered glass that she'd gingerly stepped over behind him, once she finally caught up to him.

At this moment. Roy felt something cold, leaning firmly at the back of his head. He felt a shiver that ran down his spine as he heard the next bullet click into place.

"...Don't move, Mustang."

His head jerked around at the sound of her voice so violently the face looked vaguely familiar… very familiar… It was Winry Rockbell who held a gun to the back of his head. The little girl in the picture. The little girl now a young women whom he felt sorry for.

"Mss. Rockbell?" He was quite confused. Roy was certain he knew that he was not the most pleasant person to be around and he knew that he could very well be at work right now. But he didn't not have to look behind him to see what was pressed firmly to the back of his head.

_This is probably a dare or something… _he thought to himself. _There's no way she actually wants to shoot me..."_

"Alright who put you up to this," Roy laughs again. His broad lips draw back and she see so many teeth. They are all a perfect white.

"No. I'm serious."

Roy laughes again, "You want me to see you as my executioner. Well you look the part. You look half mad. Have you slept at all?" He runs his eyes up and down her body. She feels naked in front of him. Vulnerable. How did he know? "Though the gun doesn't look natural… should I request a wrench?"

He didn't think she was serious. She'd show him.

The touch of the muzzle touching the back of his head was felt. Miscalculation, he didn't think Winry Rockbell would make this move. How in the world did she ever get a hold of a gun? Until now, Winry never pointed a gun to Mustang. Roy's eyes widened in relization and feels for his own gun at his waist but it wasn't there. In other words, that means...

"You stole my gun? It was you who bumped into me, you took it from me in the Coffee Shop." He said, his voice sounded like it was under water.

"You guessed right. But you're too careless, Colonel. Did you forget, who I am? Did you become careless because I was behaving myself well? ...Bad luck for you. I haven't forgotten my parents." Finally, as if no longer beating around the bush, she actually thought out a somewhat hurtful connection to him and the parents that he had murdered. "Tell me, was this the kind of devotion you had when you killed my mom and dad?

"Not really...You can do anything, even hold a gun. I understand that. But do you realize what the hell you're doing?"

"Of course, I'm not a child, Colonel. I know what I'm doing." Winry scoffs behind him. Clearly, he is not as confident in her as she is.

"Look how about you put the gun down and we talk about this." Despite the fact that he knew nothing about what was going on in her head, he still tried. "Whatever your thinking, it's normal," he told her gently.

The gun lowered slightly against his skull.

"Whatever you're feeling is normal too," he offered unsure of what else there was to say to make her feel better. Obviously both of them were in need of a debrief.

What hell do you know about normal?" The gun was pushed more firmly to his head. "I have nothing to lose," she reasoned as the tears feel gracefully down her face. Roy didn't see it that way, Winry had a job, she had her grandmother and she had years of retirement ahead of her when she was done with automail. The thought of it ending there and then in a heartbeat, caused him physical pain

"I don't know what normal is anymore," he said. "In the last day I was there in Ishval, a seven-and-a-half-year-old girl got shot down by the insurgents. So normality is very, very ambiguous thing, if you know what I mean."

"You get asked to do things," Roy added. "You get asked to do things you would expect to do wearing this uniform, and that is as simple as that really." Sure enough, Roy took out a card inside his pocket, and gave it to Winry. He could finally give it back to her once and for all.

"What is this?" she asked puzzled.

"Open it." he offered.

"Money...?" He disgusted her.

Winry didn't need money. She wasn't intreseted in the wallet.

Her body had begun to shake, and the tremors only continued to grow more and more violent. "What do you take me for?!" Winry spat at the former officer with undeniable venom in her harsh words.

"It's not what you think... Just open it." He refrained from giving a huff, remaining as patient as he could.

After all, it wasn't Winry's fault.

"Fine." When Winry finally opened it she found a small familer picture with very familer faces...

_Mom. Dad._

There was a photo of them, holding her, encasing her in their arms. They were outside, holding eachother and smiling. Smiling like the crazy fools they were, a sparkle in their eyes. A sparkle Winry no longer held, and neither did her parents.

Winry felt her heart constrict, pain blooming from within, a pain she had shut away a long time ago. A pain she had convinced most that she didn't hold.

They had taken her out to play that day, they had played with her. It was of the only few picture she had of them. Her fathers, blue eyes stared at the camera, holding an unattainable love and life. He had a black necklace around his neck, just like her mothers.

Winry had her mothers big black sun hat atop her head, flap curled back, and a pink flower dress. Her mother wore a dress. A white sun dress, they were on a hot day, she wore her hair back in a low pony tail. She held her hand on top of little Winry's head in the picture. They were all happy and laughing.

And then they died. Winry never said goodbye. Then she broke down, spilling tears she didn't know she had.

When they were alive, they used to spend a lot of time together. Until... Ishval and Roy Mustang happened. And then the Elric brother had abbandoned her for the supposed gate. And then grandmother Pinako... died, and she shut everyone out around her, out of heartbreak.

They were all smiling, how long had it been since Winry had smiled? Since she had let go of it all and laughed? They had been carefree and happy, what had happened? Mustang. Mustang had done this. He had wiped the smiles off the faces. When he shot them, he cut them all out. Now she had no one to hold her.

Winry stared at them all, of the family she had lost as she immersed herself in her own little world of sorrow and grief. In her self-centered world where nothing else mattered.

They were laughing and smiling, what she'd give to have them smile again.

She started to shake, choking on sobs. For the complete family that she no longer had.

Winry broke down, crying tears that had been locked away for so many years, tears she didn't know she had had.

Roy carried a picture of her in _his_ wallet. He kept a part of her inside _his_ wallet.

She tried so hard to get that piece back, knowing that it was impossible. Winry was tragically angry. She would smash him like a piggybank, eagerly searching everything that fell from him. She couldn't have known that he already taken that piece and slowly grew himself around it, until it was a part of him too.

"How long...how long have you had this picture?" she asked.

He couldn't answer her. Hell, he couldn't even look at her. Winry was shaking...Vaguely, he heard her stir behind him. He opened his mouth, but his voice failed him; only a dry, rasping sound escaped him. "I was going to return it. I was just waiting for the right time."

"This is mine! How long were you going keep this from me?!" There isn't the slightess hesitation, from Winry. She wanted to kill him. By _God_, she wanted him to die. It took every ounce of willpower that she possessed to keep even a slight finger from pulling the trigger, but she managed. "I know how sad the death of a person is! How much it's injust and cruel and homicide! Therefore Colonel Roy Mustang! Until today I will not allow your existence!"

_No more running...I am the man who killed her parents, and I'm gonna die by her hands _Roy thought. Death premonition was felt.

"You killed my mom...and dad...I could kill you right now." She grit her teeth. A numb sensation traveled up her arm; her fingers dug into the trigger beneath handle. There was silence for a few moments, save the rain. Slowly, ever slowly, she blinked, and loosened her fist. The Colonel broke the silence – the notion was strange.

"So what will you do?"

With the gun in her hand, Winry had the power to finally end this. Yet, even though he is held at gun point by a girl only half his age, he looks peaceful and almost powerful. Winry feels her fingers lock and the conflict between shooting or not cripples her. She is suddenly glad for the cool rain because she can feel the sweat slowly dripping down her spine. Winry's breath catches in her lungs. She struggles to get enough air. Mustang looks at her with sad eyes.

He erupts into the Colonel Roy Mustang he is supposed to be; the assertive, confident, cold-blooded killer. He becomes who he'd been in Ishval. He struts over to her, gripping the gun like he owns it. Roy grits his teeth and curl his mouth into a contemptuous smile. Standing in his military uniform with unbrushed morning, he looks like a feral warrior. Winry looks as far from the innocent child as she could. Winry wants Mustang to look at her and cower. She wants him to know that he will meet his death at her hands and that she will have no problems wiping his blood from under her fingernails.

Winry's eyes drill holes into the black hair and she feels strong. Winry feels powerful. She feels as if she could do this. Mustang knows she is capable. Winry can see him grip her hands a little tighter over the gun. The gun lowers just at his heart and the soldier, out of respect for her, stands at attention. Winry doesn't say anything just stands there in front of him. After two tantalizing moments, he raises his eyes to look at her.

And laughs.

Roy's thick lips draw tight. He throws his head back and Winry can see his adam's apple slide with the sounds. His laugh is raspy, but relentless. His eyes sparkle. He jerks her hand still on the gun with one hand to his chest. He's laughing too hard.

Winry raises an eyebrow. What's going on, she asks him. But Roy shakes his head. Winry can't think of why Roy Mustang was having this reaction. He has a gun pointed at a fatal part of his body. He's been cornered in an alley by a teenage girl and she was the one who was going to ruthlessly blow his brains out. Just like she had fantasized.

"Why are you laughing?" Winry asked. Roy's staring at her with sad eyes. She has all the power there in her manicured hands.

"Winry," Roy manages to utter. His use of her real name shocks her and for a brief moment, surprise takes over her stone face. When he sees her look, he breaks into laughter again. "Thank you." Of all the things Roy Mustang could say, this was the last thing any of them expected. "My God look at you!" His chest rises and falls quickly, recovering from his amusement, "Look at what my past created."

A few moments pass before Winry is able to register what he's saying. He sees her as a killer. The notion sinks into her before she realizes the devastating effects it has on her psyche. Winry's assertive stance sinks into one less sure. The gun's weight sneaks up on her and almost drops it from her hands. "This is exactly what I want." His voice is tender. It beckons her. Winry takes a few steps bakwards, but Roy's hand holds her back. She can feel his fingers pressing into her fingers on the trigger it almost hurts. He wants her to do this.

"You're crazy."

"You can take a life," he says, "it's so simple. Just pull."

Winry started to falter. She couldn't do this. She was not a killer. _Remember your enemy_.

This was her destiny. Winry was meant to do this.

Roy smiles like he's won, because he has. He will die and pay for his sins. And she would move on with her life happily knowing her parents murderer no longer existed. Winry thinks of the Elric brother and how hard they've worked. She thinks of her parents, sprawled out and bleeding like she imagined them so many times in her dreams. Winry will murder Colonel Roy Mustang for them. She had the courage now. She could do this.

"Shoot me, Mss. Rockbell" Mustang hisses.

It's up to her now. The pain that she has been through is extraordinary. The fact that she hasn't committed suicide is also shocking. She handles death fairly well, she could be worse.

Roy infront of her is impatient. She is too. Winry knows she's supposed to do this, but that voice of logic keeps popping into her head: _"I don't want that . . . Turn into some monster that I'm not."_ The words chill her. _Am I a monster?_

"Winry!" More urgent, "Shoot me! Do it now!"

Winry looks at Mustang. She hates him. She knows she does. He turned her into this broken woman, the indecisive being. He took away everyone and everything she loved because he had the power. The gun she held in her hands gives her the power now and more power than Mustang. Winry looks at Roy for help. She couldn't do this by herself.

"You can do it," Mustang whispers. He brings a hand to her cheek. "Shoot me." His words brings her confidence. _Yes, I can._

"Do it" Roy says, ruining her concentration. "Shoot me." He looks at her and narrows those cunning eyes. Winry knows he can see her inside and out and for once, Winry understands what he means when he says he created her. "Shoot me… and I die."

Winry's fingers twitched, and the next thing she knew, she was pointing the pistol right back in Roy's face, pressing the end of it to the center of his forehead, the area which she first aimed for instead it was infront instead of back.

Her grip tightening around the pistol, very much tempted to just pull the trigger between Roy's emotionless eyes. There was no fear, no panic that arose within them which mad the guilt that much worse on Winry, but the way his skin paled was all the more disconcerting. But this time… This time, Winry was going to shoot him and get it over and done with.

"Go on," Roy whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. Sweat slid down his face, beads of it decorating his forehead and temples. "Shoot me."

Winry pressed the pistol harder against Roy's skull, flexing her fingers, curling them more firmly around it. _Get it over and done with. _He wanted to die. He remembered once he was home, he'd shot several holes in the wall of his bedroom, before putting the gun to his head. When Maes came over and stop him and questioned it, he'd stayed silent, but the look in Mae's eyes told him that the both of them knew better.

"I should kill you," Winry said under her breath, so quietly that only the two of them could hear, so quietly that it made the silence deafening. "I _want _to kill you." Winry let her hands fall, back to her sides where they hung limp and lifeless.

Roy, hesitant, reached out and grabbed the girls head pulling her to his chest, a gesture that Winry tried not to revel in. "I know," said Roy and, taking her face in his chest, comforting the girl in his arms. "You should've killed me so that your troubles will be over, so that you don't have to put up with me anymore."

Winry shook her head, clenching her teeth as she cried. "I should've." But they both knew that she just couldn't do it.

Roy looked down at the young woman her golden hair brushing against his chin. His arms were stiff, with only one hand still on her head. Once again the overwhelming urge to protect her overcame him. He couldn't bare to see any woman in so much pain and suffering, especially her, he had caused her so much pain in the past, and whether or not she forgave him, he would always carry that burden upon him. He owed her his life, he could at least comfort her, she had lost so much, so young.

The Colonel slowly curled each arm around her, hugging her securely, he felt her tremble, so he rubbed her arms lightly to ease the tension. He didn't want to seem insincere, he truly wanted to comfort her. He felt the need to comfort her, to protect her, to somehow atone for his past, in some small way. He had always tried to keep tabs on her, to make sure she was safe and alive, but always from a long and safe distance. Never had he expected this type of situation.

Winry felt exhausted, she no longer cared that she was weeping and being held by the man who had once committed a horrible attrocity against her. She would forgive him, he may not have known it, but inside she had. Perhaps not telling him so, was her subconscious way of letting him suffer a bit for those sins he committed. She didn't care right now, she needed someone to just hold her for a moment.

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**This is a much shorter story then the rest. Not only that but this is my first ever completed story on FanFiction! Horray! Party time! Cookies, ice creame, and cake for all! I'm very excited about this because I've been so busy with college class's, family, relationships. Bah! I feel like I don't have time for anything anymore! And YES I'm still working on my other stories and the reason why there not completed is because they are extremely long. Again I hardly ever have anytime to work on them and really get those suckers poped out and done with. I just wanted to through a completed story out there for a change so I feel somewhat accomplished in my every day crazy life that constricts my obsession for anime. **

_**~Placido**_


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